Abra

Had a dream the whole month of June transported me to medieval times (probs. too much Game of Thrones). Instead of going to my own house, I was sent to my mother's. In the dream, she was incredibly obese and owned a market and her two daughters were to help run it. At some point my cat was traded for a monkey. At any rate, my sister planted cries for help near or on most of the items for sale.

I woke up and thought about how near to reality the whole situation was, aside from the time of the setting (in the near future I have agreed to help manage a garage sale to help pay for certain expenses), and then decided to try and re-enter. The trick was not giving a fuck, while thinking about how the dream could continue.

Back in the dream-that-is-reality, I find a friend has been jailed. The only option at this point is to break away from the mother while finding a way for my sister to escape (that's always been the goal). Only then can I reclaim my friend. A half-dozen missile-fireworks are seen flying across the horizon and their impact is heard outside the market. An unrecognizable female familiar has blown our house apart and half the market to pieces using her new weapon invention. My mother takes off a pin she was wearing, as do a couple of those she was speaking with over a porcelain doll. She comments that she has lost belief in her country--it is not safe anymore.

And then I wake up and it's 7:30 and I'm all, "Fuck this why do I lack the ability to sleep in." And then I shower, go on Dreamviews, type the dream, and end it with a doubly self-referential statement.